


The Best Things

by theoneandonlylittlebird



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, RSS, Romance, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Sweet Fluff, rss 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneandonlylittlebird/pseuds/theoneandonlylittlebird
Summary: Belle French doesn't fit. No one needs a new friend and the library's funding just dried up. After her genius plan for raising an operating budget for her library fails miserably, Belle finds support from an unlikely source.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham/Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notalwayslate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwayslate/gifts).



> For the delightful @Notalwayslate. Merry Rumbelle Christmas, my dear! Thank you for this prompt. I have had SO much fun with it. I have giggled, I have sighed, I have felt warm and fuzzy and I hope you get all the same as you discover it. May your days be merry and bright!
> 
> Instructions for use of this gift:  
> As I mentioned in the love note I sent you, this is a multimedia gift!! Seek out Little Bird youtube channel's playlist entitled RSS 2019.  
> At a certain point in this piece, which I won't spoil for y'all, you'll notice + Song Title, Artist between the paragraphs. These correspond to the playlist mentioned.

Anyone with any sense was off the street. Socked in well below freezing for weeks now, the town would have looked deserted if not for the glowing windows. Glowing windows behind which gathered friends, loved-ones, people who wanted to be in each other’s company. People with plans already.

So not Belle.

Snow covered everything and new was falling in the afternoon gloaming of the northern latitude in winter. It would be dark in about thirty minutes and then it would be even colder.

Tears were freezing on Belle’s cheeks above where she had her scarf wrapped around her face.

In thirty minutes, it would get even colder and there was no one around. Graham wasn’t at the station and Belle wasn’t going to call nine-one-one for an emotional emergency. She just wasn’t going to do that.

But she wanted to.

Maybe it was childish, but the slight Australian without the right winter clothes had had just about all she could take. She’d tried, they’d been polite, and she was left alone, without plans.

And without funding for her library.

The mayor, Regina Mills, had been all apologies but the money earmarked for library operating costs had had to be diverted to fixing a road washed out by a mudslide last month. That meant Belle’s salary would be washed out too, come January first.

The snowy edge of a planter outside the empty sheriff’s station seemed as good a place as any, so Belle sat in the snow and cried.

Yes, in a matter of minutes the snow would melt and her clothing would get wet and she would get dangerously cold. She knew that, and she would have to go home. But in a minute. Just a minute to pity herself and be miserable.

The minute passed and nothing changed. Belle was there, still living Belle’s life with all of Belle’s problems and all of Belle’s complaints. Belle’s tears were heard by precisely no one and just as many people were waiting in the cold loft apartment above the library with a hug and condolences, let alone solutions.

She got up and started walking home with a wet and cold bottom for her trouble.

“Belle, what’s wrong? Do you need help?”

She had made it as far as the sidewalk beyond the parking lot before Sheriff Graham stopped in the snowy driveway to lean out the window of his car and startle her.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing.” Because what else was she going to tell him? The truth? You’re the only one in town who talks to me and I know it’s out of pity? Nope, not going there.

“Obviously, not. Get in, I’ll either drive you home or wherever else you need.”

That’s when she looked up at him. He was looking right at her, like he meant it. Like he saw her and she was real to him. Not like a duty or a chore, like she was really a human being in his life. So she nodded and got in.

“It’s a complete disaster, Graham. I failed. One hundred percent failed.”

“It can’t be that bad-” he began but she cut him off.

“It is. Not a single person has a single free evening between now and the end of the year when the funding runs out. They gave me sixty-five dollars in the donations jar in the past month and the baked goods cost me fifteen of that. I’m done for. I may as well work at Granny’s to feed myself because I can’t even keep the lights on in the library.” A fresh bout of sobbing seized her.

Graham was silent until she quieted some.

“You know, the very best thing you can do is just what you’ve done. You called it a disaster. Now you can look for what to do next.” His voice was kind, earnest.

“That makes no sense.”

“Just try it. You hit a dead end, say so, think about what it is you’re committed to, and then see what happens. I’ll drive you home.” Graham didn’t say anything more until he stopped in the middle of the street outside the main doors to the library. Then he said, “If Emma turns me down for the theater in mid December, would you want to come in her place? It’s not a sure thing, but she’s not into Phantom. Says she always feels terrible for the poor crazy guy in the mask. Her words.”

Belle didn’t say anything for a moment. She was busy telling herself not to be an ungrateful ass because she didn’t want to be anyone’s second choice of a date no matter what. She knew it wasn’t a date, and didn’t want it to be, but it was hard to hear a friend’s kindness around what she was telling herself was pity.

Finally, she nodded, “Graham, I really appreciate that. I’d love to. I always thought Christine should have found a way to help that poor man. I’d really enjoy it. Thank you. And for the ride. Goodnight.”

Belle got inside and to the circulation desk before collapsing in her chair and sobbing her eyes out. Yet again.

Graham was totally full of crap. What difference would it make to fess up she’d totally failed? Her commitment had nothing to do with being a stranger in a close-knit small town who didn’t need her, who didn’t need new friends the way she did. People with plans weren’t looking for new ones, they were busy enjoying their lives. Their lives that didn’t include her or funding her library. Never mind that it was their library.

A cold gust ruffled the decorative paper cornucopia and some of the fall leaves fluttered about in front of her. Just what she needed. Someone to see her like this. Belle hastily made use of her sleeve as best she could and stood up to face Mr. Gold.

The only worse person it could have been would have been Regina.

Her face flamed in embarrassment which probably didn’t show under the red blotchiness of sticky tears.

But the face in front of her wasn’t mocking or cold. It was inquisitive and perhaps concerned. Which was odd, so she must have been wrong about the concern part.

“Miss French, the sheriff dropped by to return some stolen property of mine and happened to mention he’d just given you a ride home. He said you were upset and he wished there was more he could do. I see he was correct.”

Mr. Gold was an elegant Scottish man with a gold-handled cane upon which he now leaned as he peered at her tear stained face. He was everyone’s landlord. Except hers, she supposed, because she lived in city property. Even if not for long.

Perhaps that was what he was here about. Everyone in town knew about the funding situation at the library, and no heat or lights on in the building meant she couldn’t live there anymore. He knew she’d need a new situation, soon, and he saw a new opportunity to profit.

“Um,” Belle said eloquently.

He blinked several times and looked down. “Uh,” he offered his own loquaciousness, “I’m going to Granny’s, just down the road-” as if she didn’t know that, “- for, uh, dinner. I don’t suppose you’d- are you hungry? My treat.”

She bristled at the charity, but only for a second while the shock sunk in. “Um, what?”

“They serve food there and I have a little time for dinner-”

“Oh, oh, I mean, yes, thank you.”

“I know you don’t- oh, yes? You will?” He met her eyes again looking like he didn’t quite know what had happened.

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ve been outside a while and the wind and-”

“No matter, shall we?”

He drove them the half a block from the library to the diner. Belle had been privately berating him for wasting the gas until she saw how carefully he placed his foot on the compact snow and ice of the sidewalk. He drove them because it hurt him to walk.

And Belle had been abusing the man who was taking her to dinner in her thoughts because he was disabled. That wasn’t like her at all. That wasn’t who she was, or who she was committed to being anyway.

She hurried up to his left side when they got to the few little steps and offered him her arm in support. He’d never take it, a man such as him-

Leather-gloved fingers gently clasped around her arm for a second while they walked up the steps.

Oh!

Then that hand reached around her to open the door and usher her in under his arm.

Oh.

It was warm in Granny’s and the rest of the town was ensconced in the company they had with them in the warm glow of the light and rich cooking smells. So this was what it was like behind all those golden window panes. She looked up for a second at Mr. Gold, who was scanning for an empty place to sit, and he was standing closer to her than she had realized. Or was she standing closer to him?

“Just there,” a soft Scottish murmur that still carried enough to be heard over the buzz.

His hand landed on the small of her back and Belle felt suddenly cozy. She stepped with him at his direction toward a booth in the back.

The place was busy enough they had to clear some empties to the end of the table, but that didn’t seem to bother Mr. Gold. Another surprise.

Granny herself arrived at their table and frowned at Mr. Gold, then blinked when she saw Belle.

Mr. Gold didn’t say anything until the food had arrived and they had both taken the edge off their hunger. “I hear fundraising isn’t going so well.”

“It isn’t going at all! Bake sales will not pay utility bills. Or salaries.” The last was under her breath and she almost felt ashamed to say it, though logically there was no shame in being paid a living wage to do a job.

“Why is the library so important to you? You are bright and talented and could work wherever you choose, if you don’t feel you can support yourself at our library.” Mr. Gold didn’t sound judgmental, more curious.

“It’s not about the salary.” Belle mumbled that and munched a fry. “It’s about parents reading to children. About story hour and puppet shows and resources for students. A place for learning job skills and having community spaces for creativity... and reading... and for exploration!”

Belle heard something else besides defeat in her voice by the end and Mr. Gold was meeting her gaze steadily with a little smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Then what do you need to do to make that happen?” No mocking, just... was that encouragement?

“I need to inspire Storybrooke to invest in itself.”

He leaned back and steepled his fingers. “You just did.”

Confused, Belle frowned at him, “What?”

“You inspired me. I want those things. I have a young son. He’d love story time and puppet shows. I’m fighting for custody and if I had a town that supports resources for children, the judge might look more favorably on me as a parent.” He said most of that to his soup at just above a mutter, clearly unused to sharing such things.

Belle had no idea what to say so she said nothing and waited. The soup was still warm, so she took a few more spoonfuls while he thought.

When he looked back up at her, there was a tenderness, a vulnerability no one could have told her this man ever felt.

He said, “We could hold a raffle. A rent raffle.”

“I don’t follow-”

“Like this!” He leaned forward in excitement. “Fifty dollars a ticket and I’ll choose a tenant to win a free month’s rent, on me. People with expensive rent will buy more tickets and those that like me the least, they’d rather give you money than me. It’ll work and I can well afford it.”

“Even businesses?”

A unexpected smile lit up his face, “Even businesses.” He put his spoon down decidedly, “There are about ten thousand residents in Storybrooke and very few of them are not my tenants in some way or another. How does that sound to you?”

“Like a library.”


	2. Chapter 2

A steady stream of Storybrooke residents converged on the library during the three days the raffle was open. Graham and Emma took turns taking strong boxes to the bank for Belle and Belle found herself needing someone just to handle the raffle proceedings so she could actually help Storybrooke rediscover it’s library.

More easily solved than she had thought possible, Granny sent her granddaughter Ruby over to help with that, in exchange for five tickets for Granny’s Diner.

The freshly printed banner, bankrolled by Mr. Gold, hung in the window proudly displaying the offer:

Storybrooke Library Fundraiser  
Rent Raffle for Mr. Gold’s Properties  
Three days only!  
$50 per ticket

In small print it read:   
Mr. Gold will choose a tenant to receive a free month’s rent. Businesses included. Mr. Gold will personally visit the winner to present the signed voucher for one month’s free rent on Christmas Day, December 25th.

On a whim, Belle had put up a sign for story hour each afternoon. The house was packed with children. Belle hastily found she needed to separate age groups and hold three separate story hours, but for a program that had been non-existent the day before, Belle felt over the moon at the success.

But something was missing. By the afternoon if the third day, she knew what it was: Mr. Gold.

He hadn’t been to the library even once to see his handiwork, just what joy he was bringing to the residents of Storybrooke, and what a thriving library looked like. Belle had distributed more library cards during those three days than she had in the past three months.

Monday morning following the raffle, Belle had a very messy library to manage. And that suited her just fine. She’d left everything exactly as it was at ten pm the previous evening and collapsed into a black sleep.

Belle rubbed her eyes and went back to re-shelving the children’s section.

“I hear things have been going well.” Regina, her boss.

“Madame Mayor! How nice of you to stop in, yes, very well, thanks to Mr. Gold.”

“Thanks to him indeed. He designated all the earnings from his little game as a charitable donation from him to the library specifically, not to the City of Storybrooke, to the Storybrooke Library. You’ve really caught his attention. Tell me, how did you do it?”

Regina, perfectly coiffed in every way, leaned toward Belle with her elbows on the circulation desk. Pointed and focused. Belle hadn’t missed the barb in her words.

Regina had hoped to appropriate and redistribute the funds if she could have done it.

Deciding to play innocent, “I told him what the library means to this town and to me. It was his idea.”

Regina stood up and tsked. “I’ve been trying to get him interested in civic projects for a decade and you do it in one conversation. The park needs a new irrigation system and I have more potholes than paving materials. The tour buses do a number on our roads during the summer, you know. Do you think you could inspire him into a renovation of the sewer system? Tell him how much you wish we didn’t need to have septic tanks anywhere within the city limits.”

Belle smiled. Regina wasn’t trying to take Belle’s money, she was trying to do everything she could for this town and if Belle had an in with Mr. Gold, Regina would try to use it. Well, politicians were just that.

“I know it sounds simple, but have you just asked Mr. Gold for a generous gift to the city? Maybe tell him you’ll put a plaque with his name on it over a storm drain or something.” Belle quirked her lips just enough to let Regina know she was kidding.

Good-natured, Regina laughed, “Oh, no. I’d put his name on the public restrooms at the park. The Mr. Gold Memorial Toilets. He’ll give me money in a heartbeat for that.”

Belle joined her boss in laughter until it died away naturally.

“I’m glad this went well, Belle. I don’t care how you did it, I didn’t want to see this place shuttered and I’m relieved you’ve been able to take some pressure off the city. Good job.” She smiled and was gone before Belle could reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days later found Belle alone in a booth at Granny’s. Each day had brought fewer attendees to the story hours with today’s only attracting two children, a set of siblings hastily dropped off so the parent could go settle some financials with Mr. Gold across the street. She hadn’t even finished the chapter when the parent reappeared and unceremoniously hustled her two kids out the door.

So. The residents of Storybrooke didn’t care about their library, they cared about sticking it to their landlord.

The grinch in Belle understood the sentiment. Where was he anyway?

Didn’t he care about the final talley? About just how much money he had managed to contribute through his scheme? Mr. Gold cared very much about money, so that couldn’t be it.

Should she go and visit him? Give him flowers and the number, or something? How did you thank someone for a year’s worth of operating costs plus a start on renovations?

After an unsuccessful trip across the street to the pawn shop, he had closed up for the evening, Belle sat behind her window staring down at the cold world below.

She felt a bit like Quasimodo, invisible but for the services she performed.

Money was damned cold comfort it turned out. Even with the heat set at a reasonable temperature for human habitation, as opposed to set only high enough to keep the pipes from freezing, the chill would not relent.

There was no one here. Not one of the patrons who came to try to win something from the infamous Mr. Gold had even really seen the new person in town or thought how lonely she must be or wondered if she’d managed to make friends yet. Wasn’t it a rule that there was always someone who looked around for those who were left out to bring them into the fold? To introduce them to someone who needed them too?

Or was that just the movies?

In reality, isolated people remained that way, silent behind their dark windows wondering how to make even one meaningful connection with another human being.

In Australia, Belle had just always known people, somehow. But here, how to even start?

Belle pulled herself away from the window. Hot chocolate or a shower?

Shower. 

Then she went to bed curled up in thick blankets alone, wishing that weren’t the case.


	4. Chapter 4

“Belle, sorry to bother you.”

She jerked awake to find Graham’s concerned gaze peering at her. Ordering new books for a long overdue update to the young-adult fiction section hadn’t even been able to hold her attention let alone keep her awake in the completely dead library.

Mortified, Belle scrubbed a hand over her face and sat up with her heart racing. “Slept worse than I thought last night, maybe I’m coming down with sometime.”

Complete and utter lie. Belle had in fact overslept, not cared about that, and felt healthy, if not fine.

Graham smiled sympathetically, “I sure hope not, but maybe you had better take the afternoon off, just in case. Hey, I just dropped by because Emma gave me her biggest eye-roll when I mentioned Phantom next month and I’ve got her enthusiastic blessing to take you instead. Would you still like to go?” 

Graham was one of those people with a kind face. A sweet, innocence which she couldn’t really reconcile with the occasional violent nature of his job. This was a genuine offer to spend time with him and he wanted that.

Trying not to sound too desperate, Belle said, “Thank you, Graham, I’d love to.”

The smile she gave him was sincere.

“Great then, I’ll look forward to it. Gotta run, crime in the big city of Storybrooke never sleeps.”

Belle laughed and he smiled his way out.

Awake now, Belle decided that if Graham could take time in his day to care about whether she lived or died, she could try again to thank Mr. Gold.

The pawn shop was dimly lit, and even dimmer, probably, for the swirling snow flurries outside.

“Mr. Gold?”

She heard a grunt and was that a Scottish curse?

“May I help you?” The voice came before the man swept the curtain aside and joined her in the main room. “Ah, Miss French. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Gold?” For a moment Belle didn’t know what to say. He’d just secured her livelihood and hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Yes?” There was a stillness in his features she didn’t recognize from the man she’d shared a meal with only a matter of days ago.

“I just, um, I. The, your, I mean, the rent raffle went very well.” Her best speech to date, bar none.

“I heard.” He blinked, but that was the extent of his emotion on the subject.

“Look, seeing as I have a salary for the foreseeable future, could I take you to Granny’s? Return the favor? I can’t drive you but-”

“Oh, yes, I would, I’ll drive, it’s no matter.” He was suddenly in motion, like he had been one of those living statue street performers come to life. Color rose in his face and he went so far as to lick his lips. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll lock up for the day and we can go.”

He blurred past her to the front door, click, and then she had to hurry to follow him through the curtain into what looked to be his workshop. Someday she wanted to have the chance to explore the treasures of this room, but so suddenly, he had his coat on and was holding the back door open for her.

She brushed the front of his suit by necessity in the small space between him holding the door and the wall. His cologne she could only describe as fruity and intoxicating. No one should smell like that. It should be illegal. And why did she care what he smelled like?

The cold air slapped Belle’s hot cheeks with a well deserved sting.

In their booth at Granny’s, if it could be theirs with using it just twice, Belle felt the eyes of the other patrons in a way she hadn’t on their previous visit. It hadn’t mattered that they had noticed the librarian and the landlord sharing a meal then, but now?

Nervous she flicked her eyes back to Mr. Gold whom she found watching her intently.

“Are you alright?” That man should sing lullabies.

“Oh, yes,” but then she choked, “no, I mean yes, but no. Oh hell.”

A radiantly warm hand settled over hers where she had been fidgeting with the silver. That heat rushed through Belle and she looked back up at him completely unsettled.

“What’s wrong, Belle?”

He did know her name. Wait. She didn’t know his!

“Uh, um.” An undignified little half sob escaped. “I’m the most ungrateful and pathetic person I’ve ever met.”

“That I doubt, but why don’t you tell me why you think so?” His thumb stroked her hand and Belle couldn’t figure out how to take a breath for a second.

“You just gave me everything I need to succeed and all I can think of is how much I hate this town because no one wants me in their lives here. There’s no Belle shaped space where I fit and I can’t stand it!” She hadn’t meant to be quite so direct about that. He’d take back his hand and with good reason.

Except he didn’t.

“I don’t fit here either. Never have. If you wanted, we could be misfits who eat together occasionally. I can’t provide you anything like the decent company you deserve, but I could be available once a week or so so you wouldn’t have to eat all your meals alone. I mean, it doesn’t have to be that often-”

“That sounds wonderful!” Without thinking about it Belle had taken his hand in hers and was squeezing it while she smiled at him.

Color was rising up his neck and he was breathing shallowly.

How unexpected. Oh. He was embarrassed. She should let go of his hand.

She did so.

“Oh, sorry. Eh. Um. Sorry to overstep. I think I want pie this time, do you have a favorite?” With her needy hands safely in her own lap, Belle changed the subject with all the grace of a land locked penguin. He’d regret agreeing to weekly dinners with her by the end of this one.

“No, no, I-” Mr. Gold adjusted his tie and pointed to the line of glass enclosed pastries. “I avoid the banana cream and the fig tart, but otherwise you can’t miss. Miss Lucas does know how to make a pie even if she can’t figure out how to get dressed for a workplace.”

Belle tried to smother a snicker and failed. “I noticed that. How’s the divorce coming?”

All the color drained from his face and Belle couldn’t believe she’d just said those words. She didn’t know what his business was and why on Earth had she even considered that asking how getting custody of his son was going was light dinner conversation?

“Thank you for asking.” Strangely, it sounded like he meant it. Belle opened her mouth to reply but then shut it again. “It doesn’t look good for me. I don’t have a reputation as a warm and kindly man around here and my ex, though she doesn’t care to be a parent, wants to spite me in any way she can.”

“I’m sorry. Both for that and for being so presumptuous as to bring it up. I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Maybe that you know it matters a great deal to me and you cared,” he cut her off and Belle found he was right.

So she told him so, “That’s true. I don’t know you very well yet, but you just went way out of your way to see that your son has a library, so I know he is very important to you.”

“Yes, everything to me.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore and it was clear he was hurting over this.

So she reached for him, as he had done for her a moment ago. Startled brown eyes locked into hers at contact and this time she looked right into them. “If there’s anything I can do, will you ask me for it?”

It looked like he’d turn her down flat, but then he closed his mouth and looked at her for a second. “Yes, I don’t know what there would be, but yes, I will.”

A cozy rush suffused her and Belle smiled. He was gripping her fingers in return. A human connection at last.


	5. Chapter 5

A week later Belle pushed the last crumbs of pie around their shared plate as their conversation wound down. Most of the dinner rush had departed and Granny’s was almost quiet. The eponymous dame was wiping an already clean counter and she had already sent Ruby for her night out.

Mr. Gold was on his second cup of tea and nursed it slowly. He had propped his ankle on his cane which he had wedged against the seat to give it some elevation. Belle thought of offering him a massage sometime. Not that she had any skill, but it clearly hurt him and sometimes just warm skin rubbing could do wonders.

All kinds of wonders.

To hide a flush at that, Belle sipped her own tea. They’d need a fresh pot of hot water soon. Her teabag definitely had another steep in it since Granny didn’t buy cheap tea.

“Surely you had something in mind aside from a bake sale to make up your operating costs. What happened?” Mr. Gold seemed to be fishing for something, but she didn’t know what.

“There’s this TV show I like, a silly little show that’s about feeling good and a little surprise at the end. It’s soothing and nothing too high stakes. I like my novels to rend my heart, but sometimes a little fluffy non-sense is just the thing. You know?” She met his relaxed and inviting gaze.

“I do. I’ve been known to indulge in such myself, the more-so recently. So what was your idea?” He went for the last of the hot water for his exposed and cooling teabag.

They would need more hot water this evening. They had last week too.

“I know it was stupid and no one here would be interested in doing this kind of thing, but I hoped. Anyway, there are costumes and people guess who’s in the costume. I thought I could get a few of the town’s better singers, and maybe a few not so good ones who have a good sense of humor, to volunteer and then sell tickets to the show. We could have done it in the library basement.”

Mr. Gold snickered softly under her breath and her heart dropped. It was stupid-

“Have you seen the basement? The only thing that basement is suitable for is a mausoleum and not the pleasant kind. There probably are incidental bodies down there.”

Belle forgot her momentary mortification and leaned forward, “Incidental bodies?? Do you really think so? Does Storybrooke have a mob history or something? Do you think I should start running under-town tours? I mean, that would get the tourists into the library in the summer!”

He squeezed her wrist and his thumb grazed her hand just once where she was holding her teacup on its saucer. “Belle, I only meant it’s a little dank down there for that kind of party. Don’t you think?”

After swallowing her pounding heart out of the way, Belle said, “That’s why no one was interested. They thought I couldn’t fix it up in time.”

“More than likely.” His touch retreated from her sleeve and Belle missed it immediately.

“Oh well. Graham offered to take me to the theater in Portland in a couple of weeks and now I don’t have to worry about funding for a while. Thanks to you.” She smiled openly at him.

Which he seemed to ignore and said, “Is he now?”

An afterthought to something he wasn’t sharing.

“Oh! Oh, no, that’s the same day of the week as we’re scheduled for dinner! I hadn’t even thought about it. I’m so sorry Mr. Gold, but he offered before, and I-”

He extended both hands toward her, placating. “It’s fine, Belle. Rescheduling is completely possible and just fine with me. It’ll be just fine. You’ll tell me all about how it was, won’t you?”

A curious gooey feeling suffusing her, Belle murmured, “Of course I will.”

She still didn’t know his name.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where you'll need that youtube playlist handy: Little Bird, RSS 2019

“We’ve one more stop to make, then we’ll be on our way.” Graham wasn’t driving the squad car when he picked up Belle in her opera best outside the library. He had thrown dinner into the deal and Belle had yet to visit Portland so this was a genuine adventure. With a friend.

Perhaps things were looking up.

“Oh, ok. I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I’ve already threatened to talk Mr. Gold’s ear off about it.” She threw a cheeky grin Graham’s direction while she belted in.

“I’m certain he can’t wait for that.”

“I’m sure not. I had to reschedule dinner with him and he’s too polite to say it irks him.”

“Mr. Gold is not know for being polite when he is irked.” Graham pulled away and they were off.

An hour’s drive out of Storybrooke later they pulled up in front of a row of waterfront townhouses. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, Graham was out of the car and dashing up the snowy walk. His house? Did he forget something? Belle didn’t know where Graham lived, but somehow, these townhouses seemed above his reach in her estimation.

A piping little voice startled Belle, “-can’t wait to see him-!”

“Now Baeli, let’s not spoil things for Miss Belle in case she hasn’t seen it yet.”

Belle had seen Phantom before, well, the movie version, but nonetheless she appreciated Graham’s courtesy.

A small boy of about five scrambled into a booster seat as soon as Graham had it secure obediently and buckled himself in like a proud expert.

“Hi, Miss Belle! I’m Baelinson Gold and Graham’s taking us to the show! I can’t wait! But I’m not supposed to say anything for the surprise.” He was bouncing against his seatbelt through the whole thing.

“Very nice to meet you, Baelinson. I am sure I’ll be surprised.” She gave him her best smile, then turned to look up the path. A scowling woman with dark hair and arms crossed was watching. Gold’s soon to be ex?

It was certainly a surprise to be taking his son to an opera. How did cops afford opera tickets anyway? Having been raised not to pry, Belle kept her curiosity to herself.

But Graham must have read her mind, “I couldn’t convince his father to come, he was being a grinch about it, and his mother tried to say no. She would have succeeded if I weren’t a cop and I hadn’t given the forth ticket to the judge. It took some fancy foot work to get young Mr. Baeli to be able to come on this trip with us.”

“No wonder he is so excited. A young opera fan is he?” Belle couldn’t resist.

“I don’t think he knows what opera is yet, but it’s a show and he’s been told all about it. I guess we’ll see what he thinks. Mr. Gold wants his son exposed to the arts at an early age.” Graham was quiet for a moment while he got them back on the road. Then he said, “Between you and me, I know where I’d rather see Baeli, even if most of the town doesn’t share my opinion.”

Belle sighed softly, “I believe I share your opinion.”

“That’s good.”

It was a smaller theater than Belle would have expected for such a major show, but this out of the way neighborhood theater had charm and patrons were milling around, buying their tickets and the marquee read “Unmasked!” and nothing else. Curious.

Graham shoehorned his car into the cramped parking garage and turned to Baelinson, “Would you make sure to hold tight to Miss Belle’s hand so I don’t have to worry about you while I get our tickets? You don’t mind, do you Belle?”

“I’d be delighted.”

The five year old attached to her hand bounced about like a shopping bag in high wind. He smiled so much and made silly noises. Belle was completely charmed and knew if he didn’t wind down soon, she’d also be exhausted. How did parents do this?

Underneath her delight at their tiny charge, she felt nervous to be responsible for him. First time anyone had asked her to do anything resembling parenting. She’d been too busy reading to babysit as a child herself, so this was new.

It wasn’t until they were inside the red carpeted lobby that Belle noticed that she knew not a few, but many of the attendees. It looked like half of Storybrooke was in attendance. She was surprised so many had been willing it make the winter drive on a weekday evening.

The whole theater couldn’t have held more than two hundred seats. How did Graham get tickets to Phantom of the Opera in such an intimate venue? It must have cost him a fortune!

At least she could offer to cover her own costs, now that she knew. And these were very good seats.

To her surprise, Baelinson settled down in his seat very well as the lights dimmed.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. You’ve all seen how this usually goes and this isn’t it. We aren’t professional and we may not even be very good, but even if all we entertain is your pity, you will be entertained. We promise at the end of the night, all singers will be revealed. Thank you very much for coming in support of renovations to a historic building in a tiny town you’ve probably never heard of, that’s brave of you. Now please, sit back, fall asleep and enjoy the comfort of your chairs because we’re not giving your money back no matter what.”

The audience laughed. At Granny. Granny was up there on the stage in sequins!

And what had she meant about singers being revealed? That didn’t make any sense.

A piano began strains of what sounded like a Christmas carol and the curtain flew up to reveal the Grinch.

Green.

Huge head.

Twisted rictus of a snarl.

Tufts of green fur and huge yellow eyes.

That unmistakeable Dr. Seuss Grinch.

Baelinson was bouncing in his seat and giggling, but then, so was everyone else.

When the laughter died down, a sweet familiar melody filled the theater:

O Holy Night.

In full Scottish brogue.

And it was good.

+O Holy Night - Groban

Belle had to check her bladder to make sure she hadn’t pissed herself in the shock of it all. It was dry downstairs. She let out a long breath and came to the conclusion that he was looking right at them, at her, well probably at his son, but who could tell for sure behind the full face covering?

There was a tenderness in the song Belle had never picked up on before. Mr. Gold was singing about the birth of his own son, how much he meant to him. And the judge was here, somewhere. No one who knew the situation could have missed it. Except maybe Baelinson, who saw his dad singing a song in a ginormous green grinch costume.

“Chains shall he break-!”

At this Mr. Gold ripped open the front seam of the costume to reveal a huge glowing red heart beneath. It pulsed with an ethereal light and it was at least three sizes too large.

His hands fell to his sides as he finished and the audience erupted in applause.

Belle was crying, full on, helpless crying. And she hadn’t prepared for this. Mid purse rummage, Graham put a hanky in front of her face. She smiled and took it. His eyes were damp too and he used his sleeve for his own worries so she could have his hanky. Gentleman.

And there was more to this than that. Belle hardly noticed an English man’s performance of the Holly and the Ivy in his rudolf suit while she hugged Graham.

+The Holly and The Ivy- McDermott

Everyone had turned her down flat. Everyone. She’d only really complained to Graham about it though, so the fact that this was happening had to be his doing. And Mr. Gold must have owed him one. But then, he was the sheriff, maybe everyone in town owed him. No. Graham wasn’t like that. He just made this happen.

Probably for no other reason than because she was sad.

The person on the piano, Belle recognized as Marco, the wood worker who made such beautiful furniture. He was talented enough to have made the piano, for that matter.

A perfect, and huge, nutcracker strode out onstage after the reindeer vacated.

White Christmas, Carpenters

The shining wooden head must have been heavy and somehow Regina had managed to get the blunt jaw to move up and down with her words. Astounding and artistic.

Two people came out on stage after Regina. Frosty the Snowman and a Santa’s Elf who couldn’t have been more than ten years old with a piping high boy’s voice still. They shared Good King Wenceslas as a duet. Belle didn’t know either one of them in their masks.

Good King Wenceslas

Graham whispered in her ear, “Such a good man.”

Do You Hear What I Hear, Idina Menzel

A swan danced as well as she sang. Emma, clearly.

In her ear again, Graham said, “She’s singing to the son she put up for adoption ten years ago. She wonders what happened to him.”

Graham himself was crying silently and Belle squeezed his arm.

Santa and Mrs. Claus got on stage next and sang a haunting lullaby Belle didn’t know. She didn’t recognize the two people either.

Coventry Carol, Pentatonix

“Harod the king, in his raging...”

“Um, they did they get the message about Christmas, happy, masks and suppose to be fun right?” Belle whispered to Graham.

“I think we can forgive them. They’ve lost a baby to miscarriage recently.”

Belle wouldn’t have chosen that tune under those circumstances if her life depended on it, but they were holding hands and singing to each other. A beautiful melody nonetheless.

They were followed by a donkey with a perfect and clear voice.

I Saw Three Ships, Gentri

“Dock worker. But he can sure sing!”

Belle had to nod at that. The unfamiliar Englishman could very much carry a tune and then some. She wasn’t too sure about the donkey costume though.

Baelinson was smiling, happy.

A toy soldier all but shoulder checked the donkey getting on stage.

In The Bleak Midwinter  
And that voice! If the previous had been a trained stage voice, this one a folk singer. With such heart. Whatever Granny had been on about with thinking Storybrooke didn’t have good singers... clearly a modest lie.

There was something heart wrenching about this man’s performance and Belle turned to Graham when he had finished.

“A very lonely man. Many writers are.”

Not much of a clue for Belle there.

But now Belle knew she wasn’t the only lonely person in Storybrooke. Less lonely now, but still.

Following his applause, Granny returned to the stage and the curtain closed behind her.

“We’ve got one more for you, big group sing and all. Even me.”

When the curtain came up, Granny had put on a snowflake headdress and that guy from the newspaper peaked out from between the branches of his Christmas tree costume. Behind them in an arc stood the other ten performers, still masked.

That was when the audience started taking pictures.

Granny put up with it for a moment, then gave the audience a cease and desist order with a frown before turning to Marco on the piano.

+Go Tell It On The Mountain, Chicago Children’s Choir

The choral gospel number brought down the house. People were standing and clapping. Baelinson whined that he couldn’t see so Graham pulled him past Belle to put him on his shoulders. The two danced together with the boy clapping and laughing.

Belle danced too.

Granny and the newspaper guy, whose name she was really going to have to learn, traded solo verses and shredded it. The house erupted in cheers at the end.

Belle’s cheeks were wet.

No wonder no one had had any time for her these past two months. They’d, at some point, gotten drafted into practicing this. Drafted by Graham, she suspected.

She flung her arms around him. Mr. Gold’s son patted her hair awkwardly.

She thought she heard him say, “Don’t cry Miss Belle, this is a happy time.”

She nodded and swiped at her tears letting go of Graham who was smiling broadly.

“Alright, alright!” Granny said pointedly into the microphone. “Now’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”

One by one they took off their masks and Granny introduced them to the crowd. She hadn’t recognized Robin Locksley, Regina’s beau, behind his red-nosed reindeer or Archie and Henry. The two who sang the creepy lullaby turned out to be Snow and David Nolan. She instantly felt bad for judging them. The dockworker’s name was something Jones, she didn’t know him anyway and the writer’s name was August something else she didn’t catch. He had sad eyes. Sydney Glass! Of course. How could she have forgotten that? Great soloist, gave Granny a run for her money.

All of this. It was better than anything she could have orchestrated on her best day.

They must have really wanted to help her. Or they really owed someone.

In the after glow of the applause, Graham tugged her sleeve. “Let’s go back stage, someone wants to see his papa.”

Amid the smiling faces crowding the aisles greeting each other with hugs and laughs, Belle recognized lots of faces from Storybrooke, but equally as many unfamiliar ones. There must have been some hasty advertising such that Portlanders showed up.

Techies in their black clothing and quiet shoes flitted to and fro back stage still, but it wasn’t crowded and the noise was less. Conversation drifted out of the changing rooms even before they arrived.

“-pulled out all the stops for this one, Gold. My nutcracker is spot on!”

“You mean your ball-breaker!” A voice that sounded like Granny retorted.

“Exactly!” Regina, agreeing.

“Glad to know Mr. Locksley has interesting kinks, Madame Mayor.” English accent, might have been the dockworker, Jones.

Belle darted a look at Graham who gave a tiny shake his head and then mouthed, “He doesn’t know!”

Baelinson was busily pulling at Graham’s wooly curls from his piggy-back vantage point. Graham was right, he had no idea.

“I didn’t do it for Mr. Locksley’s sex life. There’s only one person in my life who means this much to me.” Mr. Gold replied and a grinch head went rolling out of a doorway.

“You have a very lucky son, Mr. Gold.” Either Emma or Snow, Belle didn’t know their voices that well.

“Papa!” Baelinson had seen the rolling head.

A second later, a still mostly grinched Mr. Gold emerged leaning on his cane.

Where had that been during the performance?

Oh. She hadn’t seen him walk anywhere. The curtain had prevented that, so he had stood alone unaided to sing on the stage in a ridiculous costume for his son, though Belle didn’t quite understand how that figured into all of this yet.

“Papa! I saw you! You were the best! You won, you won! You were the last singer unmasked!”

Graham had to set him down quickly to prevent the boy launching at his father from six feet in the air.

“You liked it then, did you Baeli?” Mr. Gold enveloped the child in his green furry arms and kissed his shaggy head.

“Oh yes, Papa! And did you see Mayor Regina? Her costume looked so real! I didn’t really get what Santa and lady Santa were saying, but I saw Rudolf and a Swan and the donkey was so funny!”

Mr. Gold was holding the worming little body against his fur while the child tugged at every tuft he could get his hands on. And Mr. Gold was crying.

That kind of thing being contagious, Belle succumbed surreptitiously and so, she saw, did Graham.

“Why don’t you fetch papa’s head and then I’ll get changed, ok son?” As soon as Baelinson had gone after the enormous head to try to roll it back to his papa, Mr. Gold stood to address them. “Miss French, I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“Thank me? I don’t under-”

“Graham told me about your idea, and how no one was, let’s call it sanguine. But Baeli loves that show. I needed to demonstrate for the judge my commitment to my son and you gave me a way to do it.” 

It was somewhat hard to negotiate the seriousness of the moment with the great landlord of Storybrooke decked out in green fur and messy sweaty hair, but Belle gulped. It took her a moment to find a reply, “But why hide it from me? I was miserable! I’d have helped you!”

Probably not the right thing to say, but that cold snowy day sobbing her eyes out had left an impression. And then all those meals shared together and he didn’t say anything!

A fuzzy green paw ran down her arm and took her hand, “I didn’t foresee you taking it as hard as you did and I wouldn’t have known if Graham hadn’t told me. I thought it’d just be a fun surprise for you too, but I needed to make it up to you, since you were so sad.”

“The rent raffle.”

He nodded and ran his other furry hand up her other arm, soothing.

“You could have just told me.”

“In retrospect, yes, but I had already arranged the whole secrecy thing and the whole town was in on it. Please tell me the surprise was worth it, that I haven’t ruined, ruined, um, our, uh, friendship?” She could see fear in his eyes. She did have friends now.

Belle threw herself into his arms and hugged his furry form tightly. “Nothing’s ruined. I get why you did this. But not really how. I mean, a theater in Portland? How’d you get this together so fast?”

He hadn’t let go of her yet, he was snuggling her back, in fact. A moment passed then he said simply, “I bought the theater.”

Belle started to laugh. “Of course you did.”


	7. Chapter 7

Belle stood beside Mr. Gold at an old but still sturdy looking small house at the edge of town. They were waiting for the doorbell to be answered.

A tall blonde woman, skinny, answered and looked immediately afraid when she saw Mr. Gold. “The rent’s not due until the New Year! We’re paid up.”

“I know, I know, Ashley, that’s not why we’re here.”

“Oh. Ok.” She remained tense.

“We’re here about the results of the rent raffle. You won.” Mr. Gold extended an envelope toward her.

Shock followed by confusion immobilized Ashley and she didn’t take the envelope. “But Mr. Gold, we didn’t enter the raffle. We couldn’t afford a ticket.”

Belle sucked in an unplanned breath. Mr. Gold pushed the envelope further toward Ashley.

“But, but-”

“Take it.”

Ashley took it. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were shiny. “Mr. Gold?”

He smiled like a man who knew a very find joke at someone’s expense. “It’s very important to read the fine print, when entering into an agreement. The terms of the raffle were that I would select a winner. Not that I would select a winning ticket from among those purchased.”

Ashley’s mouth fell open. She close it a second later, “But they’ll be furious when they find out!”

“Then it’s best we don’t tell them.” Mr. Gold was considering her with a hard expression: keep my secret or else!

“Not a word!” Ashley whispered and Belle smiled. Ashley blinked once, her gaze flicked between Belle and Mr. Gold and she muttered, “Merry Christmas!” before ducking hastily back inside.

The door closed with a soft click and Gold turned on his heel to stride back up the walk.

On inspiration, Belle seized his hand to stop him, then stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

She couldn’t help but smile at him even though she had no idea what to say.

He stared back into her eyes for a stretching moment.

Then he kissed her mouth softly, slowly, retreating with his eyebrows raised in a hopeful question.

Belle let out a little laugh and kissed him back. Sweetly. Thoroughly.

Most unexpected and, if the butterflies tickling her diaphragm were any indication, utterly and deeply desired.

He seemed so relieved, after they had parted to exchange soft chuckles, that he leaned his forehead on hers.

“No, I didn’t plan this,” he murmured.

“The best things are surprises.”

He looked up suddenly, frowned for half an instant, then smiled softly again. He put his finger to his lips, and then smiled further. Belle turned just in time to see Ashley watching out the window. She was smiling and then mimed zipping her lips shut and throwing out the key.

She’d keep their business private, probably longer than they could manage for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @notalwayslate's prompt was: The Masked Singer, Library Fundraiser 
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed this. You may now have noticed that I'm a sucker for Christmas music and sharing some of my favorite carols with you gave me much joy. Hope you could tolerate them ok. I know Christmas music isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I went for variety and for what I thought might fit the characters and what they're going through. I've shared my inner nerd with you, I won't be offended if you now need to shower. :P
> 
> In all seriousness, Merry Christmas and I wish you well, @Notalwayslate. It's been a pleasure being your Santa.
> 
> For everyone else, you can follow me on tumblr @theoneandonlylittlebird and I hope you will!


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